


clizzy untitled one shot (november 2016)

by aihodineverlark



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Bisexual Clary Fray, Bisexual Isabelle Lightwood, F/F, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-07
Updated: 2019-05-07
Packaged: 2020-02-27 22:26:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18748327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aihodineverlark/pseuds/aihodineverlark
Summary: Posted in honor of Shadowhunters ending—a fic I never got to finish. Set during early season 2.





	clizzy untitled one shot (november 2016)

Her mother is alive, awake, and Luke hasn’t left her side. Magnus waves a sparkling finger in front of Jocelyn’s face to check her vision and cognitive function, while Alec stands in the corner, arms crossed over his chest; Clary mirrors his position, trying to look stoic rather than distracted. 

(It doesn't work. She's, very obviously, distracted.) 

She can hear Lydia and Maryse arguing in the hallway, and she doesn’t know where Izzy is. 

(Jace is gone.) 

Her mother is alive, awake, and Lydia has been replaced. The Institute is on lockdown, and Clary hasn’t seen Simon in five days, which does nothing to help how both stir- and regular crazy she’s become; her knee bobs up and down constantly with worry, unnerving everyone around her more than usual. Alec lies shirtless in the infirmary, ruminating over ways to track Jace with a not-shirtless Magnus. He doesn’t sense his Parabatai other than the fact that he is alive, and not in distress. 

At least for now. 

(No one is looking for him. Victor Aldertree, the new head of the Institute, made sure of that.)   
  


* * *

  
The last time Clary had a nightmare, she woke with a gasp to Simon standing over her, his warm gaze comforting her and tethering her to reality. A familiar face amidst the storm of newness and crazy that had taken over Clary's life.

Tonight, it isn't her best friend that wakes her—it's Isabelle. And the sight sends a tingle to Clary's stomach, one of wrongness and... something else entirely.

(She had seen Jace's face before she woke last time, a dream within a dream. Is that what this is?)

Then in a moment, everything changes.

Their lips meet in a soft, chaste peck at first, and in the gap between the two of them, Clary flushes in embarrassment and expects Izzy to leave right then and there. 

What Clary doesn’t expect is for Isabelle to kiss her back. Or cup her neck while she deepens the initially sweet kiss into something that causes Clary’s blood to simmer. What Clary doesn’t expect is to be making out with Isabelle Lightwood—who’s, by far, way out of her league, and who she didn’t even know she  _wanted_  until now. 

Clary doesn’t expect to  _not_  be thinking of Jace right now, wherever he is, while she’s kissing his adoptive sister—a nd it feels so wrong, but  _so right_  at the same time. 

Clary doesn’t expect any of it. 

And then she wakes up.

Izzy is still there, only this time she lies on her side, her nose brushing Clary's neck. Asleep. Fully clothed. Blankets between them. And Clary doesn't remember how she got there, for a moment.

Why is _Isabelle Lightwood_ sleeping in her room?  
  


* * *

_  
"You asked me to stay."_

Her answer comes in the morning, through a rasp in Izzy's throat that sends Clary abuzz with those butterflies again. Only this time, they're like bees under her skin.

She doesn't understand what they mean until she and Isabelle start training together to feel like they're doing something instead of just sitting around waiting while the Institute is on lockdown.

Isabelle teaches Clary how to hit, block, kick—all things a Shadowhunter must know how to do. But Clary has a lot to learn.

Isabelle knocks her down so many times, trips her until her head spins.

She calls Clary _scrappy_ with a grin that has Clary aching to get Isabelle on her back, on the floor—just so she can see her through eyes that have been defeated, knocked down but still so full of light and determination. Something Isabelle has that Clary has always admired.

"I'm a quick study," she says to Isabelle's smile when she finally does it.

It is that look on Isabelle's face that has Clary leaning down, pulling Isabelle up and leading her away.  
  


* * *

  
Isabelle’s hand is clammy in Clary’s as they head to her room, closing the door swiftly behind them before the redhead takes the other girl back against it, kissing her roughly whilst pinning her arm above her head. A dominance that Izzy has only seen her use with her comes out, and she giggles girlishly at the thought. 

She’d bet that Clary has never kissed Jace like this. A spark of inherent victory, then melancholy, lights; she pushes the thought away, focusing on the feel of Clary’s fingers on her ribs, slowly ghosting their way upward. The tingle her touch leaves warms Izzy. 

It is then that Clary pulls away, and the both of them greedily suck in much-needed breaths of air, chests brushing between them. 

A wolfish grin spreads on Clary’s face. “How was that?” she asks, tongue peeking out to lick her lips. 

Isabelle smirks, her own lips feeling just as bruised as Clary’s. “Better,” she remarks. “I guess you really are a quick study, hmm?” 

Clary laughs into her mouth. 

Then, with the burn of the speed rune sizzling her thigh (still in affect from their earlier training session), she uses their still-entwined hands to switch places, and now she is the one pressing Clary down into the door. “My turn.”    
  


* * *

  
Over the next few weeks, Clary and Izzy spend a lot more time together than apart. 

They sneak glances, touches, kisses, and no one suspects a thing. 

The lockdown is lifted. Jace is still gone. 

Clary feels lost, but wonders what she can find with Isabelle.  
  


* * *

  
 They're found out when one day, Simon walks into Clary's room without knocking.  
  


* * *

  
Izzy slips out of her room, thank God, and Simon pounces on Clary—verbally, with a ballsy question: 

"Are you... gay now?" 

 _What?_  

"No! — I mean, I don't — isn't there one where you're... both?" 

“The ‘B’ in ‘LGBT’? Yeah, I think so…” Simon’s head tilts, and his hand goes up as if to reposition his glasses, but of course they’re not there anymore. “Bi… Bisexual?” He drops his hand lamely. His brow crinkles. “Ah,” He palms the back of his neck instead, “Are you…?” 

“I don’t know,” Clary says. Sighs. She goes pink when she admits, "Izzy's the only girl I've... kissed," and it’s hesitant, because  _she’s_  hesitant, all out in the open with Simon, the person she’d least expect—but is unexpectedly the best person—to walk in on them. 

“Kissed,” he echoes, “with your shirt off.” His eyebrows raise at the state of her shirt. 

Which is on backwards. 

Clary grabs at it and reddens further, tucking her arms in and shifting the shirt until it’s on right, only then realizing that Simon is still standing there staring at her. 

He’s amused. 

Clary rolls her eyes. "Simon," she says.  

"Clary," he says back. 

“Please don’t tell anyone about this,” she pleads. “I don’t even know what it is—I don’t know if I want others questioning it, either.” 

Simon nods, smiles. 

"You might want to lock your door next time, then," he teases, earning him a good-natured punch on the arm.   
  


* * *

  
The more time Clary spends with Izzy, the less she thinks about Jace. And the less she thinks about Jace, the more confused she gets.

After a daunting mission hunting Valentine (they have to look for him, because Alec is dying without his parabatai), Clary wonders how she'll feel when (not if) they find Jace. When he comes back to the Institute, back to her. How does she explain what she's found with Isabelle? Does she break it off with him? What does she do?  
  


* * *

   
She asks Isabelle this, and it leads to a fight.  
  


* * *

  
"—Izzy, I didn't mean it like th—" Clary tries, but Isabelle cuts her off.

“Don’t you  _ever_  say I’m relieved Jace is gone. I’m not.” She continues, "If anything, I think  _you_  are because you don't have to face what you and I am."  

 _Because you don’_ _t know_  is left unsaid. 

"That's not true!" Clary protests, pushing herself up on her arms, against where Isabelle hovers over her, intimidating. 

But it is. 

And they both know it. 

Clary visibly slackens as she slumps to the floor, the truth setting in. 

She loves Isabelle, she does—but is she  _in_  love? Is she _in_ love with Jace? Has enough time gone by for her to even  _know_? 

As Isabelle leaves her lying there, Clary lets her head fall against the pillows, a groan coming from her mouth; of frustration, agony, and,  _God, I fucked up_. 


End file.
